When An Enemy Saves Your Life, Are You Allowed
by fojee
Summary: NealJoren--enemies fall for each other bec. of circumstances--complete!
1. Default Chapter

****

When an Enemy Saves Your Life, Are You Still Allowed to Hate Him? 

by Fojee

Warning: R, slash, N/J, torture and rape scenes 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to the Goddess Tamora and I don't get paid for this.

Acknowledgement: For Kitori who wrote excellent fic, "Fairy Tale", thanks for the inspiration. Sorry if it has similar plot.

****

Chapter 1: Taking the Fall and Paying the Price

__

I hate her. Joren of Stone Mountain thought to himself as he scrubbed another pot. _Why couldn't she just stay home where she belonged? Maybe pa was right, and her whole family's a-twist. _He was up to his arms in soapsuds, which was demeaning enough without the jeers of the other _commoners_ working there. They didn't talk back to his face. Oh, no, they wouldn't dare. But the sidelong glances and whispers were enough to make Joren's blood boil. If he didn't need the money so damn much, he'd have the whole bar shut down. 

Joren was working to pay the fine for _that girl _and her commoner maid. His father had already paid the hundred gold nobles, but the money came with a terse letter demanding that Joren find a way to reimburse the high price. Joren replaced the hated image of _that girl_ with his father's. He knew they could afford to pay thrice that. The command was just to make it appear as if he was being punished, even though Burchard of Stone Mountain despised progressives more than Joren himself does. 

Joren laughed bitterly. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. He didn't really pay those men to kidnap the damn servant, but have spoken out of anger at the indignity of being put to trial. He cursed his temper once more and thought obliquely that he envied the Lump her self-control. He would grant her that at least. 

He didn't know who did the deed. Probably one of his father's conservative cronies. It didn't matter anymore. He had taken the fall, and he would pay the price. He didn't tell anyone and let them believe what they may. After all, the plan was genius, more so if it worked, and taking credit for it brought him no dishonor among his peers. After he became a squire, he even gave some effort to be nice to her, especially at his knight-master's request. But he has discovered that neither Keladry of Mindelan nor any of her friends easily forgave or forgot. And what was the use of wasting effort on being nice when no one believed you anyway? Joren shook his head in disgust.

Despite his being noble, or perhaps because of it, not many establishments at Corus allowed him the opportunity to work. They probably thought nobles didn't know the meaning of the word. _And they would be right._ Joren sighed, as he examined another blister growing at the base of his thumb. If training was drudgery, washing dishes was torture. 

Joren didn't really mind hard work, despite his complaints to himself and to the world. He didn't shirk his work as a squire, understanding the need to train one's body to react instinctively to any threat. But he detested being humiliated above all. And while washing dishes wasn't really tough on the body, his ego could only take so much humiliation. Especially since he wasn't really any good at the job, and suspected the owner only kept him on for the laughs. 

_Not that it matters_, he thought darkly. He still had more than half of the fine to pay. A big chunk of it he took out of his own allowance. He was hoping once the scandal died, his father would throw away this notion of punishment. Thank Mithros that Lump was away with the King's Own. Joren would probably snap if he had to see her everyday. At least, with more than half the knight-masters away from the palace on the Great Progress, few squires were around to see his indignity, and he could push around the pages left at the palace. 

"Boy! Are you done there?" The red-faced owner called to Joren, breaking into his thoughts. Business was not really going well, because most of the nobles are on the road. The bar got its fair share of customers, but none of them had much coin to spend. So his boss seemed extremely grouchy, bordering on sadistic, when it comes to his treatment of Joren. "Come on out here!" 

He finished putting the mugs and plates to dry, and went outside, expecting to be sent on another of the stupid errands his boss could think of. Either that, or he was "shown off" to the customers like a circus sideshow. _A working noble must be quite a spectacle to these people._ He thought.

However, he didn't expect to be greeted by a certain red-haired lady knight and her loud-mouthed squire. _Great!_ He thought, pasting a fake smile on his fair face as he automatically ran a hand through his white-blond locks. Not that he's trying to look good or anything. He's certainly _not_ trying to impress the older Nealan, who obviously hated his guts anyway.

Nealan sneered at him, but remained uncharacteristically silent. Of course, the Lioness had a reputation for having a sharp tongue. Nealan must be scared to compete with his knight-master. 

"So this is Joren of Stone Mountain," Alanna of Trebond eyed him coolly, "The clothes become you." Joren bit back a sharp retort and looked at the floor. To his consternation, he felt his face heat up. 

His boss gave him a sharp order to "entertain" their guests while the drinks and food were being brought. Joren had no choice but to sit with the two nobles.

"So, uh," Joren tried to sound indifferent, "What are you guys doing back here?"

Neal was openly jeering at Joren's commoner-outfit. "It's none of your business, pretty-boy!" 

Alanna looked at her squire who became silent immediately. _She's a miracle-worker alright._ Joren thought wryly. Then she turned her violet gaze on him. Joren swallowed his reaction to Neal's moniker. "Actually, we came to you for a reason." Her tone became silky and persuasive, and, if possible, more dangerous. "You are aware that my father is the spymaster of Tortall, aren't you?" 

"Aren't we all?" Joren rolled his eyes. Myles' position as spymaster was Tortall's worst kept secret. 

"Well, he asked me to deliver a message. You are invited to our home tomorrow night at eight. He has a proposition for you."

"Why should I bother?" Joren allowed a slight sneer to color his tone, even though Sir Myles of Olau was someone he regarded with respect. 

"Because it involves a large amount of money," Alanna countered, "Money I am sure you would appreciate having." She looked at his slightly wet dark brown tunic with thinly disguised distaste. 

Joren closed his eyes briefly. "I'll think about it." He said curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to work." He made a slight bow before leaving, careful not to look at Neal. 

Alanna regarded the slender young man. "Do you think he'll come? You know him well, don't you?" She asked her squire. 

Neal shrugged. "He'd probably be curious enough to appear, but I doubt he'll agree to your father's scheme." For a minute there, he felt something suspiciously like pity for the other squire. "What I don't doubt is he can pull it off." 

Alanna looked back at her squire and wondered at the strange expression in his face. _Hmm…_


	2. Propositions and Positions

****

Chapter 2: Propositions and Positions

Joren was having second thoughts. Well, technically he'd thought about it a lot more than twice. But he still found himself outside the door of Sir Myles of Olau that night at seven fifty-nine. He knocked before he lost his nerve, and a Bazhir opens it, inviting him inside.

Joren took a deep breath, adjusting his dark blue tunic. He tried to convince himself that he dressed extra nice in reaction to Lady Alanna's comments on his clothing yesterday, but the truth was that he hoped Nealan of Queenscove was there. He was not disappointed, except for the small insignificant fact that Neal couldn't even pretend to be happy to see him. He was greeted with a glare from Neal, a raised eyebrow from Lady Alanna, and warm smile from Sir Myles.

Sir Myles of Olau, although known by the whole of Tortall to be the king's spymaster, had the paradoxical air of a straightforward and honorable man. He welcomed Joren graciously, as if he wasn't aware of his adopted daughter's animosity towards the boy. He insisted that they dine first before there would be any talk of business. 

After a dinner of potatoes and venison, a dessert of sumptuous chocolate cake, and a very awkward silence, Sir Myles led the group to a dark study. Joren was barely seated on a dark mahogany chair when the spymaster spoke.

"You are aware of the events surrounding King Jonathan's coronation, I assume." It was a statement, not a question. After Joren nodded slightly, Myles continued. "There was an attempt to replace him instigated by the supporters of the late Duke Roger, Jonathan's cousin. It didn't succeed, mostly because of the efforts of my daughter here." Alanna rolled her eyes. "But the enemies of the throne remain.

"Now five months ago, a large house was commissioned by an unknown and apparently very rich man. He arrived three weeks ago and held party after party, inviting both commoners and nobles. At first, the nobles refused, probably deeming the parties too… vulgar. However, they gained such a reputation that some nobles finally attended, including myself." Joren resisted the urge to tell him to get to the point.

"This man had a very marked resemblance to the late Duke Roger, and could pass for his son. I don't know what he is planning, but I am sure the nobles and commoners who are against King Jonathan will soon flock to this stranger's parties. We could expect what will happen after that." 

This time, Joren couldn't stop himself. "As flattering it is to be privy to the king's problems, what does all this have to do with me?" 

"Shut up!" Neal hissed at him. 

"I'll get to the point," Sir Myles smiled at Joren, while Alanna placed a restraining hand on her squire. "This man will hold another party for next week. It has come to my attention that he likes… young boys. Therefore, I want to hire you to work as a waiter for this party, to spy on the guests, and as distraction for this man, while Nealan will look for documents that may shed light on this stranger's true intentions." 

Joren stood up, horrified. "You want me to sleep with some king-wannabe?" 

Neal snickered. "Not like you haven't done it before, pretty boy! You probably know all the positions already!" Joren looked like he wanted to murder someone when Myles raised his hands to placate him.

"No! You will be given something to make the stranger fall asleep, and you will act as guard to make sure no one catches Nealan." Myles glared at the loud-mouthed squire who shut his mouth immediately.

Joren sat back down after a long glare at Neal and crossed his arms. "Fine, but what's in it for me?"

"Somehow I am not surprised to hear that." Alanna drawled, before showing Joren the insides of a bag. It was filled with gold nobles. "There are thirty gold nobles here. You'll receive this if the mission is successful. If it isn't, you can get extra pay from the job as a waiter."

Joren was silent for a second. "It could be fun, but I want extra pay for working with him." He pointed a thumb at Nealan, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. His heart was beating very fast at the thought of bonding time with Neal. Myles and Alanna smiled in assent. Neal, however, didn't know what to feel.


	3. Joren Makes an Excellent Party Favor

****

Chapter 3: Joren Makes an Excellent Party Favor

Nealan tried to relax but this sudden urge to steal glances at Joren weren't helping. The younger boy looked like a cherub in his waiter-outfit. He was bare-chested and wore a pair of short, tight-fitting breeches in dark blue and also wore a black choker sparkling with light blue gems around his neck. 

When they were putting on the outfits, neither of them would look at each other. Joren didn't even make any disparaging comments on Nealan's emerald-studded choker and forest green breeches. This whole mission was making Neal reevaluate his old enemy. Without Kel around to draw insults from the young man, he didn't seem so bent on bullying people. Or maybe he _has_ changed, as he claimed. But then, Neal remembered her friend's examinations and what Joren had done. This memory gave him the strength to focus on something other than Joren's pale, tousled locks and slender curves. 

The party was well underway, and the mysterious stranger who introduced himself as Reginald was mingling with both the commoners and the nobles present at the party. Nealan noted that a lot of them were conservatives that King Jonathan had to work around delicately with his decisions. 

According to the plan, Joren had to attract the stranger's attention somehow. That was the easy part. Joren haven't done anything yet and he already turned heads wherever he went. Some of the nobles and even some commoners recognized him, but it wasn't a problem since they knew he was in desperate need of money. They recognized Nealan as well, which is why he couldn't "loiter" about as efficiently as Joren could, so he just stayed near the feast table. Whenever one of the conservatives would ask what he was doing there, Neal just mumbled that he lost a bet. 

Joren had stationed himself near Reginald, always mingling and yet somehow returning there. He also made sure to always keep the stranger's cup filled. Whenever Reginald caught his eye, Joren smiled shyly at him. The poor king-wannabe didn't stand a chance. 

***

__

This Reginald bloke wasn't so bad. Joren eyed his "target" appreciatively, but at the back of his mind, he was only doing so to remind himself what he was there for. The slender dark-haired stranger in rich blue and violet robes was an effective distraction from a certain half-naked someone. At least, Nealan disappeared periodically to check out the rooms. He had given the signal a while ago to indicate that he had found a place in which to start his search for information. 

He remembered the little packet in his breeches that was magicked to put someone to sleep, touching the unnoticeable bulge in his pocket. _Have to focus on the job._ The small crowd surrounding his "target" had disappeared, and in fact, many of the guests were leaving. He had listened to them talk about everything from the vibrant decorations, the luxurious food to the extravagant entertainment of singing and dancing ladies dressed in peacock feathers, and the lithe, young, half-naked boys like him. 

The boredom of small talk almost made him tune everything out. But the thought of the thirty gold nobles awaiting him helped keep his focus. It wasn't really what those fops told Reginald that seemed dangerous, as they just drowned him in flattery. But they formed small groups whispering with each other. Nealan had not attempted to get close, as he was known to be squire to the _abomination _that is the Lady Knight, but Joren was accepted, and even welcomed. 

They had asked how his illustrious father was. As if he cared! He made small talk with them, and didn't feel an ounce of pity or guilt that he was going to sell their "secrets". After all, one of these bastards could have been the one to hire those kidnappers, feeding them _his_ name as the kid who'll take the blame. Nevertheless, all he got was a rumor about an ambush to the present king while he was away on the Progress, and whispers that Scanrans were willing to lend a hand. His thoughts were distracted by a movement; Reginald was beckoning him with a smirk. _Finally!_ He looked at Nealan and they shared a look of understanding. 

"Sir?" Joren made sure to bow deeply. Reginald ran a perfectly manicured and bejeweled hand through Joren's white blond curls. 

"What an excellent party favor you make, darling. Now that all those ass-kissing people are gone, would you like me to give you a _very detailed_ tour?" He gestured to the rest of the large house, whose architectural style screamed _foreign_. The walls were partly made of carved panels of dark wood, and partly of some hard substance Joren couldn't identify. What hung on the walls, however, were tapestries of vibrant color showing battles between knights and monsters, obviously of excellent quality. 

"I would be delighted, milord." Joren mumbled, letting himself be led into the various rooms. As he expected, Reginald ended the brief tour by taking him to a large bedroom in another floor. Then without warning, he took Joren up in his arms and carried him to the bed. Joren let out a very undignified squeak, suddenly finding himself trapped beneath the tall stranger.

Reginald unclasped the collar and started tracing patterns on Joren's neck with a slender finger. The boy's blue eyes stared up at him, looking like an innocent that he very much doubted he was. "Have you done this before, my darling?" He was amused to see a flush appear on the boy's delectable cheekbones. His mouth opened, but only a small breathless moan emerged. Reginald laughed. "You sound so sweet, darling. Can I see how you taste like?" Then he bent his head and nibbled on the boy's ear. 

Without the face looking down on him and making Joren feel the sudden panic of helplessness, he remembered what he was there for. With one hand, he lightly scratched at Reginald's back, while the other slowly took the magicked thing out of his pocket. The gasp that came out of his mouth was not purely acting, as Reginald had chose that moment to grind his body against Joren's. 

After the sleeping packet was in his hand, he nudged at the foreigner to move to his side. He didn't want to be trapped underneath him when he collapses. When Reginald finally obliges, Joren smacks the packet at his mouth and prayed for it to work. The king-wannabe didn't even put on a fight, and merely looked surprised at Joren's actions. His eyes then rolled up and he fell onto the bed limply. 

Joren scrambled off the bed, his heart thumping wildly. He tried to get his breathing under control before smiling to himself in triumph. _That was too easy_. However, the job was only half-done. He opened the door and peeked out cautiously; no one was around. He then proceeded quietly to the room Neal had indicated, not bothering to knock. 


	4. When Things Fall Apart, Heroes Emerge

****

Chapter 4: When Things Fall Apart, Heroes Emerge

Turning the knob, he walked inside where a horrible sight greeted him: Neal was pale-faced, gasping for air, being held against the wall by a slender hand around his neck. The face it belonged to, however, was the same as the face of the stranger he left unconscious in his bed. That face swiveled to regard Joren with a quite insane smile that left him in more fear than any threat could.

"What do we have here? Thieves? Spies? Where I come from, we have a very interesting way of dealing with people with sticky hands." The stranger threw Neal against a bookcase, before going for Joren. 

He panicked, ducking under this stranger's attack and rolling towards where Nealan lay stunned. He looked around for anything to use as a weapon, finally spotting a marble statuette. He only had time to point it out to the panicked Neal before the stranger blasted fire at them. It was colored orange. 

He thought his heart would explode, but Neal had thrown up a green shield that deflected the blast. It also covered both of them. They looked at each other and in instinctive agreement and rolled away in opposite directions. Joren had gotten a large book from the shelf. He now threw it at the stranger, hoping to distract him while Neal went for the statuette. It worked.

The stranger went for him, and had his hands around Joren's neck when Neal slammed the statuette on its head. The man fell unconscious, unfortunately on top of Joren. He struggled to breathe, the hands still around his neck. "Help me, dammit." His voice hoarse.

Neal helped haul the body off of him, grunting, "It's all your fault. You were supposed to keep him busy!" 

When Joren could finally breathe, he gasped out, "T-twins. There are two of 'em. One's unconscious in the bedroom." He also related all he had overheard from the guests. Neal was starting to tell him about what he had found, extending a hand to help him stand up, when the door began to open. They froze as three large men holding swords peeked inside. _Guards. Shit._

As the three shouted in alarm, Joren pushed Neal towards the window. "Go. I'll cover you." He stood in front of Neal, throwing anything he could grasp at the men advancing towards him, while keeping an eye out to his escaping partner-in-crime. He knew he wouldn't be able to escape the same way, and was only buying Neal some time. One of the guards had seized him when an orange glow surrounded him. He was immobilized immediately.

The man on the floor stood up. "Get the other kid." He said coolly, "This one belongs to me." Joren stood in panic, struggling to free himself. He saw the man raise a hand before darkness abruptly took him.

***

Neal ran as fast as he could. His mind was running just as fast. _Joren's still there. What am I going to do? _His pure instinct was telling him to go to his knight-master, even though they had agreed that he go straight to the palace afterwards. There was no one there right now that would be able to help Joren anyway. So he went straight for Sir Myles' house outside of the palace, his mind still on the enemy who had saved his life.

He didn't notice the three men who dogged his footsteps. _Or_ the men dogging theirs.


	5. Trouble, Getting In

****

Chapter 5: Trouble, Getting In 

Joren woke up chained to a wall. His arms were stretched above his head and his feet were just barely touching the black marble floor. He was still a bit groggy, and so the situation didn't register until a man in a long black robe walked inside. His face was the same as Reginald's, although harder. _Oh shit._ Everything came back to him, so that he instinctively jerked his chain and struggled to free himself. 

The man smiled. "I see you're awake. Good. We can start, then." He walked over to a table holding sharp-looking implements. Joren had a very bad feeling about this. His panic was amplified when the man came nearer, holding a knife with jagged edges. "Your… friend. The one in green. Unfortunately, he didn't make it. Unfortunately for you, that is, as I have need of information that only you can give me." 

Joren felt a small ball of fear erupt in his stomach. _It can't be. He's got to be lying. Neal wasn't… _He schooled his features to hide his emotions and spit on the floor in front of the stranger. He didn't trust himself to speak.

The stranger just laughed. He held the knife in his right hand while he choked Joren with the left. "I was hoping you would… _not_ cooperate." Slowly he cut a line on Joren's left cheekbone. 

Joren closed his eyes and ground his teeth together at the pain. He thought he was still in shock because the image that came to his mind was of Keladry's. _That… Lump._ Yeah. That Lump who withstood pain without complaint. He didn't have a clue how Kel did it, though, and thoughts about her ultimately led to thoughts of Neal. _Man, she'll be furious when she finds out I got her best friend killed._ He thought to himself in a daze. 

He flinched as the stranger made shallow dots on his torso. "I only want to know who hired you to spy on me, boy. We're just playing now, but if you refuse to speak…" The man allowed his words to trail off suggestively, dragging the tip of the bloody implement gently across Joren's throat. "After all, no one would come and save you. Boys like you are indispensable, even one as pretty as you."

Joren was getting ready to spit again when the door opened and Reginald came in. He was still dressed in the robe and tunic he wore for the party. He looked at Joren and there was nothing in his face to indicate he ever desired the boy. "I talked to one of the guests about him." He made a gesture towards the pale boy in chains. "He's supposed to be on our side."

"A double agent?" The twin brother arched his eyebrow. "Aren't you too young for such a dangerous profession?"

Joren swallowed. He was recognized by many at the party, and he didn't know what would happen if he was declared a spy for the progressives. More likely, his father would disown him on some pretense. That is, if he survived this interrogation. 

Reginald sat down on a red gilted chair. "What could you possibly gain from killing him, brother? You might lose an ally, instead; his father is supposedly a very important man in our cause. We don't need to know who sent him, just that it's those damn progressives. It may be he's working for them for money. Perhaps he can work for us as well."

The man frowned, looking at Joren. "Is that true boy? Would you be loyal to us for money?" 

_Never!_ Joren thought to himself, with Neal in mind. Instead he sneered at them. "Depends on how much you'd give me. And how well you'll treat me from now on." He jangled his chains and arched his eyebrow.

However, the man stared into Joren's eyes and snorted. "You're lying, aren't you? The son does not always follow the father's footsteps." 

Reginald snorted. "Give me the boy, Robert. I still have to pay him back for magicking me." He stood up and traced a finger through Joren's wounds in a mockery of a caress. "Besides, we should have some fun with him before we kill him." 

The now named stranger ran his fingers through Joren's silky hair and pulled. _Not the hair._ Joren thought as he gritted his teeth. 

"Perhaps later. For now I want a name."

Reginald didn't look disappointed, instead leering at Joren. "You have better speak, boy, before my brother cuts out your tongue." The knife was waved in his face, spraying droplets of blood all over.

Joren only had a few seconds to think. "Lady Alanna." He knew this Roger would know he spoke the truth, and thought the Lioness could surely handle any attacks from these men. 

"Hmm. Of course. The… harlot who killed father would feel threatened. She would have taken steps against us sooner or later." Robert was thinking aloud. 

"She is one of the greatest obstacles to the throne, brother mine." Reginald added. "But what could she do against our plan? There is no way any word will have reached her."

"Still, if she suspects, I want her silenced as soon as possible." 

"We can talk about this later, Robert. If you won't let me have the boy, there was someone else at the party that will do just fine. I think his name is Marek." Reginald said with a pout. He brushed his thumb against Joren's lower lip. "A pity, darling." He addressed the chained boy.

Robert nodded in exasperation to his brother. "Alright. Have someone send a message, but keep your activities inside the bedroom, and I will assign guards. Just in case." Reginald left without a backward glance, and Joren was left alone with Robert who was testing the sharpness of a surgical instrument. His dark eyes were cold and predatory as they stared right at his prey: Joren.

The pain was just about to begin.


	6. Trouble, Getting Out

****

Chapter 6: Trouble, Getting Out

Joren hung on the chains limply, his slim form like a puppet on strings. His wrists ached like hell, but at this point, they weren't enough to distract him from the various cuts scored on his torso. The back was the worst physically, cut as it was in ribbons with steel whips. Emotionally, however… No! Joren refused to think about it.

Robert, apparently, got off on pain, and was an expert in the art of inflicting it. By the time he finished with Joren, the boy was ready to sell his mother's soul, (as he wasn't sure he had any) for the momentary peace unconsciousness would bring. But Robert had also cast a spell that prevented Joren from fainting. His throat was hoarse from screaming, and probably dehydration as well, although the blood loss will probably kill him faster. The stream of blood dripped down his chest, back and thighs, onto the floor beneath him, so that he has an even harder time maintaining his footing.

Joren didn't know what time it was, as the room was windowless and completely dark. Robert didn't even leave him a single candle. If he had any energy left, he would have been panicking right now, as he was never comfortable in pitch blackness. He had stopped hoping for rescue, thinking that Lady Alanna might have found Neal's body by now, and would probably think Joren is in the same state. He couldn't try to escape anyway, having lost the will to live. He couldn't imagine going home and facing everyone after this. 

Suddenly, a small shaft of light penetrated the gloom of the chamber. It didn't register to Joren until a carved panel of the wall swung outward, and somebody crawled out with a small ball of yellow light. Joren's heart leaped, thinking _Neal. He's alive! _But the boy who stood up bore little resemblance to his partner. 

"Shh. Reginald sent me to free you. Try not to make any noise, ok?" Joren nodded, watching the boy slowly heal the worst of his cuts. "I can't 'eal everything, 'coz I'm not trained, and we need to move fast." 

With a lockpick, the boy named Marek carefully opened the chains and wrapped Joren with a blanket he carried with him. Then he carried the unresisting boy towards the opened panel, careful not to drip blood on the floor. He placed Joren inside, instructing him to crawl after the moving ball of light, while Marek brought up the rear. Joren moved as if in a trance, with the occasional nudge from Marek spurring him on. 

At the end of the small tunnel, Reginald's face greeted Joren, and he was slowly eased out and brought to the bed. He was in the same bedroom that Reginald took him before. The windows outside told him it was late afternoon. He wanted to go to sleep, but the two hovering around him wouldn't let him. Marek spoon-fed him soup, while Reginald cleaned and examined his wounds. His touch was clinical, and yet Joren felt panic rising in his chest. He only breathed when Reginald finished and made him change into different clothes. 

"You will end up with scars, child, but you'll make it." Reginald's voice was compassionate, although his face revealed nothing. "I can't heal you, but once you are free, you can contact a trained healer." Joren half-thought that he was dreaming all these, and his body still hung in chains while his mind hallucinated. 

After the hot food had revived him, and assured his sanity, Reginald outlined the plan to Joren. He gave him a long letter to be given to his spymaster about his brother's schemes, while explaining to Joren that he himself was a prisoner that his brother used. He also led Joren to another secret passage that led to the stables. Marek found a way to disguise Joren's distinguishable features with a hat and several coats. He was also told to leave the horses in the stable alone, but that there was a blue roan three houses away that he could use. 

He was to leave at that moment, while Robert was holding a meeting with his cohorts in another house. Reginald's twin put him under lock and key, plus many guards to insure that only one of them can be seen by the people of Corus at any given time. Apparently, that was important to their plan. 

Before Joren left, however, he asked about Nealan. Reginald's face was inscrutable. 

"I'm not sure, child. Robert questioned the guards who went after your friend. I don't want to give you false hope, but I haven't seen those men since. If they had failed and your friend managed to escape, Robert will surely have disposed of them." Joren allowed that tiny hope to burn in his heart. 

He was led to another of the panels, and some sequence was pressed by Reginald before it opened into a dark stairway. 

"May Mithros bless you." Marek whispered to him, giving Joren a small burst of energy before guiding him down the tunnel. Ten torturous long minutes later, he uncovered a large floorboard in the stables. Soon after, he spotted the horse being held by a younger boy who looked like Marek. 

He walked towards it casually, as if he didn't have a care in the world. With a pounding heart, he thanked the boy before mounting up the horse with a slight grimace. "I'll pay you back somehow, friend." He murmured to him, but the child only grinned up at him and left with a wink. Up on the horse, Joren felt a surge of hope fill him, as he went off on a slow walk towards Sir Myles' home. Still tired and hungry, and sore in a certain place, he wasn't in the mood to meet anyone else he knew, and Myles would be the best person to ask about Nealan. 


	7. Coming Together Again

****

Chapter 7: Coming Together Again

*several hours earlier*

"How will we save him? We can't get enough men to mount up a rescue team." Myles was deeply worried, and trying not to show it. 

Neal was sipping hot soup, trying desperately to warm his hands. "The guy's a sorcerer—which means…"

"Which means he'd get our names out of Joren one way or the other, if he's as… _competent_ as Roger." Alanna rubbed an aching knee. "I'm too old to be battling sorcerers again."

George was all business. "It doesn't make much difference. This guy would consider us enemies as it is. Now we all know I couldn't get to the servants, so even with the look-outs I posted outside, we're gonna be running blind." 

"If the two really are Roger's spawn, we could face a civil war here." Myles said.

George thought for a second. "And we'd need more proof before we can have grounds accusing them of treason. I'll have to try infiltrating the 'suspected' nobles; they might let some things drop." 

Neal interrupted. "What about Joren?" He didn't want to abandon the guy who saved his life. 

Myles just rubbed his eyes, while Alanna whispered, "May Mithros bless him."

George stood up. "I'll send a message to Sir Paxton." 

***

Joren was being followed. He was at a loss as to what to do, being too tired to think straight, so he settled for a simple head-on confrontation. He wheeled the blue roan around and tried to sound tough. "Who are you?"

The man was on foot, nondescript in brown, and yet his face seemed familiar to Joren. A brief look of panic crossed that face, before it cleared and turned to recognition. "Master Joren? You're safe!"

It clicked. Joren had seen him at Myles' house, one of the servants lurking. Both of them in relief, Joren allowed the man to lead him towards Sir Myles while he gave in to exhaustion and dozed in the saddle.

***

Neal looked down at Joren, so pale you could almost see the veins and shadows. The healer at Sir Myles' employ had done his best to minimize scarring, but they still appeared an angry red against Joren's near-translucent skin. 

He himself had had no appetite since that night, and barely no sleep. The others in the room, including the spy who had been posted near the stables, talked in whispers. They had found the letter when the healer took off Joren's clothes to examine his wounds. Neal was glad Lady Alanna didn't make him watch that. He had a little training, and probably a lot of natural talent, but it wouldn't have made a difference. He had taken one look at that slender body dotted with red and blue and black, and had backed out of the room, his hand over his mouth. He wasn't queasy by nature, but the guilt he felt made everything Joren endured seem magnified a hundred-fold. Because he had left early, he had missed the shocked gasps of Lady Alanna and Sir Myles when all of Joren's injuries were revealed. 

And now it was obvious that the others were excited about the contents of the letter, but at the same time there was an aura of sobriety in the room, brought on by the evidence of cruelty they saw lying in front of them. Neal couldn't concentrate on anything else. He just sat beside Joren watching the blanket rise slowly up, and down, and the criminally long eyelashes flutter a little. _He's dreaming._ He thought. _Of what?_ He shuddered to think what may be the contents of Joren's subconscious right now. 

He was watching so intensely, yet trying not to think of holding that limp hand in his. _No._ He mentally shook his head. _There were people around. They might…_

Joren made a slight sound, which made Neal jump. The others turned their gazes on the boy and watched as he thrashed on the bed and whimpered. He also muttered what sounded like "No!" and "Please!". 

Everybody just stared, until George regained his senses and approached carefully. He laid a gentle hand on Joren's brow. "Joren. Relax. You're safe now. Relax." 

Lady Alanna also joined her husband and made soothing noises, while a slow reddish-violet fire stole over Joren's form. He was just calming down completely when his eyes opened. 

***

The vividness of Joren's blue eyes shot around the room in half-panic, his head instinctively dislodging the weight of George's hand, before he fixed his gaze onto the face of the youth by his bed.

"Neal!" Joren grasped Neal's hand, then dropped it just as abruptly. "Wh-what happened?" 

Everything was explained to him by Lady Alanna's husband, who sat by his bed, his eyes hooded, yet knowing. "Now how about you tell us what happened? And how you got this letter?" He was holding up the letter from Reginald.

Joren swallowed. He didn't really want to tell them what have happened. They already think he was a milksop; he wanted to keep what little dignity he had. "The other guy, the one at the party, he ain't so bad. He got me out through some secret passage, and he's the one who wrote that letter. Also, there's a kid with him named Marek, who tried to heal me up."

Neal wanted to ask about the injuries, but he wasn't sure he'd like to hear the answers. He left the room as quietly as possible, needing some time to think about what he was feeling. He didn't see Joren try to catch his eye, and he missed Joren's face when it fell after he turned away. He had to think; what was this emotion bubbling up inside of him regarding Joren of Stone Mountain? Neal definitely couldn't call it hatred. _Not now. Not after all this._

Joren's spirits sank. Neal had left the room without a backward glance. _He didn't even thank me for saving his life_._ I did my job, and that's it. He probably hates me just like always. _He suddenly wanted to be alone. "Sir Myles? Please. C-can I be alone for a while?" It was probably the pleading that insured their prompt retreat, although that weird ol' Baron was looking at him strangely. 

Sir Myles went to extinguish the light of the lamp, but Joren panicked. He didn't want to be left in the darkness. Lady Alanna made a glowing ball of reddish-violet fire instead, so that there would be less danger of fire. Lady Alanna and Sir Myles had on blank faces that meant they were thinking of something big. 

Joren just lay on the bed, both his mind and body exhausted. The ball hovered above him. He didn't know what to do now. About the threat, he was sure the others would take care of it. But he didn't think he could go back to acting the way he did. They would see right through him. Added to that, the Ordeal of Knighthood was coming up. If it weren't, Joren might consider quitting, but as it were, there was nothing to do but go through with it. Maybe the damn thing will kill him. He sighed. Now was not the time for all these thoughts. He turned on his side, and burrowed into the warm blanket, letting the silence lull him to sleep. 

***

Neal sneaked into Joren's room, and was surprised to see the ball of light. It illuminated Joren's pale cheekbones. _He looked like someone under a spell_. He wanted a chance to talk to him alone, but didn't have the heart to disturb him. So he sat down on the bed and just listened to Joren breathe. 

He had thought a lot about what happened, and was sure he no longer hated his former enemy. Just what exactly he was feeling for him, he still haven't figured out.

"I," he cleared his throat, "I want to thank you for what you did back there." His voice was low. But it was enough to stir Joren from his slumber. 

He opened his eyes and looked up at Neal. "Neal." He said, happily. "I'm glad you're fine. I'm glad…" He drifted back to sleep, his hand clutching Neal's.

Neal looked down on the sleeping form of Joren, and everything suddenly became clear. _Mithros, I c-care about him._


	8. Thwart and Befriend

****

Chapter 8: Thwart and Befriend

The letter gave enough evidence for King Jonathan to issue a decree against Robert, and because he was taken by surprise, he didn't have the chance to flee. His sorcery couldn't stand against the king's and Numair's. He had sent assassins against Lady Alanna, but they failed against her sword and magic. He was executed for treason, both as a warning for the others who would plot the same, and as a punishment for what he did to Joren. Reginald was given a reward of the former homes and wealth of Duke Roger, but he said he had no plans of disrupting their lives and went back to his home in the far west, taking Marek and his brother with him. Joren was there to see them off. 

Things went pretty back to normal, especially since most of the squires and their masters were home. They were around to witness the Ordeal of Knighthood, which would test among others, Cleon, the prince and Joren. 

It also meant Keladry of Mindelan was around. 

Joren did not remember Neal's thank-you, and thought he had dreamt everything. He thought the older boy would talk to him about what happened. But instead he was avoided like the plague. _It didn't matter._ He told himself, his hands clenched into fists. He wasn't worthy of Nealan anyway. 

After Lady Alanna had paid up, with an understandably nice amount of bonus, his debt to his father was lessened greatly. His old man was indubitably aware of what happened to him, as naturally his friends have told him about Robert and the party, but Joren received no word, and so he assumed nothing had changed in their arrangement. His mother had sent a message that she would arrive at Corus for his Ordeal. Joren was tempted to tell her to stay away, but he couldn't think of a reason to tell her. 

He didn't give every noble to his father. He used a bit of money on a surprise for the Lump, even though he had quit his job and would probably need every noble. He spent a few hours in the market looking for something, Sir Paxton was with him. The knight had been very understanding these past few weeks. Joren thought the old guy knew a lot more than he let on, but they didn't talk about it, which suited him. He disliked going out alone since what happened, and Sir Paxton was kind enough to oblige going with him.

After a while, he found the perfect gift. He knew Keladry still thought him a bad guy, and no gift might change her mind on the matter. But he thought a peace offering would at least ease things a bit. 

Joren no longer had the energy to torment others. He had thought it was great fun, especially since no one would think him a weakling if they were afraid of him. But he had proved himself a weakling anyhow. 

He had the present wrapped up, and took it to Kel's room beside Sir Raoul's a few days before his Ordeal was scheduled. If anything else, it had provided him a much-needed distraction. Kel answered the door when he knocked. The normally cheerful face became blank. _She's awfully good at that_. He thought.

"What is it, Joren?" Kel's voice was as blank as her face. It made Joren want to fidget.

Instead he thrust the package out at her, and mumbled an apology. "Sorry for everything." Then he left with as much dignity as he could muster.

Keladry looked down at the small box in her hand. Surely Joren wouldn't be so dumb as to booby-trap a gift he gave her himself, wouldn't he? 

***

Keladry was still staring at the box sitting on her bed, when Neal knocked on her door. 

"Kel?" He looked troubled. 

"What is it Neal? Are you thinking about the Ordeal?" 

Neal shook his head and sat down at beside her. "It's… something else."

Kel shrugged, putting the box aside. "Well? Talk." But Neal remained uncharacteristically silent, and Kel suddenly thought to herself that Joren wasn't the only one acting weird. 

"Promise you won't tell anyone else." Neal said softly.

Kel just looked at her best friend, who laughed sardonically at himself. Slowly, in a soft voice, Neal told her everything that have happened with Joren. Everything that is, except his own turbulent emotions. 

Afterwards, they both sat there, silent. Kel broke it by showing Neal the box. "He gave it to me a few minutes ago. I don't know what to think, Neal. Maybe… maybe he's changed."

Neal snorted, but it was obvious he felt the same way. "It's just a little too hard to swallow that he can be capable of such evil as well as such good."

Kel sighed. "Well I'm going to open the gift anyway. If it's booby-trapped, you can protect me." She winked at him, which made Neal feel better. 

The box was opened, and no flashing lights emerged. "Anti-climactic." Neal muttered, looking at what's inside. It held a pair of earbobs, shaped like shells, and of a swirly green. There was a note in the same swirly pattern. 

For you to wear on Cleon's knighting. 

Mithros bless. –Joren

Both of them were left speechless for a few minutes. Keladry held up the earbobs and raised an eyebrow, while Neal whistled. "Well," Kel shrugged, "sometimes, we just have to accept things on faith." 

Neal was quiet for a moment. "So you'll accept his truce?" 

"Until I see proof that he remains a bully, I'll be civil. You should probably tell the others." 

Neal felt something twist inside his gut. "No, you do it. The others will be more likely to believe you." They smiled at each other, both of them aware of Neal's reputation as a big mouth. 

"So," Neal tried to change the subject, "did you know Lady Alanna fainted when she had her ears pierced? When are you getting yours done?" 


	9. Necessary Distractions

****

Chapter 9: Necessary Distractions

Joren examined his pale body in the mirror in his room. Sir Myles' healer had done a good job patching him up. By now, the most visible scar on Joren was the gash on his left cheekbone, which had been very deep and was now a jagged pink line. The wounds in his torso were all completely healed, except for a particularly painful one on his side. His back, once ragged ribbons, now only held faint white scars, which can be felt more than seen. 

Vinson and the others had asked him about the scar on his face. It took all of his self-control to tell them some lie about an attempted robbery. His eyes had been icy, and he had excused himself from their company early. He hoped they would chalk his behavior to nerves for the Ordeal. He couldn't make any decisions right now regarding Kel, Nealan or any of his 'friends'. 

His vigil would start tomorrow. 

Joren wanted to train, because he was afraid he wasn't in top condition. But Sir Paxton had told him not to exert himself too much. The Chamber of Knighthood would probably sap him of the last ounce of his strength. 

So he forced himself to eat the meal that his knight master laid out for him, before doing some stretches and exercises. Sir Paxton was being extremely generous to his charge lately. He didn't force Joren to attend dinner with everyone, although serving him was one of his duties, and he even sent Joren food so he wouldn't starve himself. 

***

Joren's vigil would start tomorrow. 

Neal was avoiding him, because it was easier to pretend the feelings did not exist if their object is perpetually absent. It was effortless on his part, since Joren almost never left his room. Neal did worry when Joren remained absent at meals, until he observed Sir Paxton ordering a plate delivered to their rooms. 

He sat down at a chair opposite Keladry. He hoped his worry went unnoticed, especially since Kel herself was thinking about Cleon. His friend was planning on having her ears pierced while Cleon was on his vigil, so that she could wear Joren's earbobs to greet Cleon after his Ordeal. 

The others' reactions to Joren's sudden "change of heart" were mixed. They couldn't believe he could change, but some, like the prince, were willing to give him a chance. It helped that they no longer saw Joren hang out with Garvey and the others. However, all of them were curious about Joren's disappearance from court activities, all except Neal, Kel and Roald, who had been told the basics by his father. The theories passing from mouth to ear grew wilder and wilder. Neal wanted to shut them all up. It was a good thing the Ordeal was coming up. It gave a believable, if improbable, excuse why Joren was living in isolation. 

Neal's worry over Joren was worsened by what he had heard last night. He had been visiting Sir Myles, because his knight-master had requested his presence for instruction. Lady Alanna had kept at him for an hour, before sending him to summon her father for dinner. But standing outside the door to Sir Myles' study, he had heard raised voices. 

Neal had hesitated interrupting the conversation, especially when he heard the voice that sounded like Baron George's say, "…you are partly responsible for what Joren… If I were a knight, I'd… Do you think money will be enough repayment?" There was a brief silence and Neal had made himself knock on the door. When the baron opened it, Sir Myles was rubbing his eyes while the baron's face remained as emotionless as usual.

All throughout dinner, Neal had wanted to ask what they were talking about. But the tense silence dissuaded him. Before he left for the palace, however, Sir Myles had asked him to deliver a letter to Sir Paxton.

Although Neal refrained from reading the letter, he had the idea that the baron had persuaded Sir Myles to act as one of the knights to instruct Joren. He agreed with Baron George. The knights were supposed to instruct the candidate while he was bathing, and so they would see Joren's scars. It was better that the ones chosen are already aware of the situation. Better for Joren, that is. 

"Maybe we should go out, Neal. We'll go crazy just staring at each other." Kel's words cut into Neal's thoughts.

"I don't think I can do exercises right now Kel." With Neal's mind thus distracted, he was likely to break something, his own bones most likely. 

Kel made a sound between a laugh and a sigh. "Not training, Meathead. We'll go the city, and find something to distract us."

Neal thought for a moment. He could do nothing until the day after tomorrow. "Sure."


	10. The Ordeal

****

Chapter 10: The Ordeal 

Joren had to concentrate to force down the panic he was feeling. Sir Myles and Sir Paxton was saying the ritualistic words of the Code, and all he could think about was covering himself so they wouldn't see the scars. He had thought about asking them to instruct him after the bath, but he was afraid of being ridiculed. That method, after all, was only used on Lady Alanna, and will be used on Kel, for obvious reasons. He didn't want to appear any more of a weakling than he already was. 

"To wear the shield of a knight is an important thing. You may not ignore a cry for help. It means that rich and poor, young and old, male and female may look to you for rescue, and you cannot deny them." 

The words were nothing new to Joren, but felt as if he were hearing them for the first time. In his years as a page and as a squire, duty has not meant much to him. 

After his adventure, King Jonathan had written him a letter hailing him as a hero. But it just made Joren realize how much he _didn't_ deserve the honor. He had saved Neal's life out of love. Everything else was just fate taking control, with him just along for the ride.

His mind was wandering, so he forced himself back into the present. Once the bath was finished, he put on the undyed cotton breeches and shirt. He was used to finery, but the sparse clothes felt wonderful to him. He was never going to be comfortable unclothed, especially with people around. He hasn't been to the public baths since what happened. 

At last, Sir Paxton opened the door to the chapel. "Remember, you must make no sound between now and the time you leave the Chamber of the Ordeal." Leaning down, he gave Joren an awkward hug. 

Sir Myles merely clasped a hand on Joren's shoulder. "Mithros bless, Joren."

Joren was left to walk alone into the cold room. The only light in the room came from a lamp behind the altar. Joren sat down at the bench in front of the Chamber. He shivered partly in fear and partly from the cold. 

Fear was a new thing for Joren. As a very young child, his father had encouraged him to eliminate this emotion. Being a filthy rich noble had helped further the illusion that nothing can touch him. But during his time in that dark room, hanging on those chains, he had felt real fear. For the first time, he had felt helpless. 

And now he was facing either knighthood or failure. 

He had also realized that he wanted to be a knight not just to escape his father's command or attain glory for himself. He wanted to help people. Knighthood will make it more likely that he never feel helpless again. 

Although Joren wanted to think about the coming ordeal, his thoughts led back to Neal. He had loved the older squire for as long as he could remember, but he didn't know how to show him without revealing his own weaknesses. And now, Neal already knew how weak he was. Joren suspected that Neal avoided him because he was disgusted with him. He was scarred and ugly, and tainted with that Robert's filth…

_I could change for Neal._ Joren thought to himself. He could try to patch things with Keladry, and he could certainly try to be a great and noble knight for him. _From now on, no more hiding. No more bullying. _Joren wanted to show Neal that he could be a better person. _I'll never tell him what I feel, but I'll change for him. I'll do my duty for him._

The rest of his vigil was spent thinking about Nealan of Queenscove's eyes, and hair, and smile, and voice… From his image, Joren drew strength of will and what passes for happiness.

***

A hand touched his shoulder, and Joren flinched with surprise. A priest was gesturing towards the door to the Chamber of the Ordeal. It was open. 

Joren stood up and tried to stretch his stiff legs. The priest helped him to walk, and Joren was too tired to refuse the aid. He entered the boxlike room made of gray stone. The door clanged shut, leaving him in suffocating darkness. Joren fought the fear that froze his bones. A disjointed voice echoed around the room. It called for him.

"_Joren…Joren…_"

It was Robert's voice.

Joren clenched his fists as helpless tears fell from his eyes. Suddenly, the room disappeared. He was back in that torture chamber, and looking at himself gagged and tied to the chains. Robert was tracing over his body with a long blood-red needle, while looking at him. "_I'm still around you know. Just like my father. What will you do if I come back from the dead, Joren?_" 

Then the large blue eyes staring back at him from the chains turned into green ones. It was Neal. Joren ground his teeth to stop himself from screaming. He couldn't move. He had to watch as Robert cut Neal open with a whip and rammed into him from behind. _I won't let you do this._ _You're dead._ He informed the monster silently. He was trying to convince himself more than anything.

"_Do you think you can protect him, Joren? Do you think he will ever thank you for what happened?_" Robert was still smiling at him, while Neal whimpered against his gag.

Joren finally found the strength to move. He ran towards Robert, although his flesh was crawling with panic. He had to free Neal. He knew it wasn't real, but he couldn't stop himself. 

__

Then the world disappeared and Joren's mind was suddenly filled with the face of every person he bullied or insulted. Many were crying. The images show him beating up the defenseless and weak, and watching as his friends do the same. 

"_You have been heartless to many. And yet you think you would make a worthy knight?_" A commanding voice resounded in the room.

"I can change", Joren said silently. He had curled up into himself, crying, unable to stop the barrage of images. "I _will_ change. I promise."

"_Promises aren't good enough._" The images stopped and a heavy darkness descended upon Joren. Then, a single face appeared. It was Neal. Joren cried even harder, feeling acutely how worthless he was. "_Sometimes, love isn't enough either._" The voice whispered in his ear.

Suddenly the room became ordinary stone once more. "_Do your duty, child. Do your duty so that you will be cleansed._" The door to the Chamber opened. 

__

***

Neal sneaked into the Chapel. He didn't want to tell anyone, not even Kel, but he really wanted to see Joren. _Mithros, let him be alright._

The door opened and a paler than usual Joren appeared, his hands bloody where his nails cut into his palms, and his eyes swollen red with tears. He staggered out and Sir Paxton was waiting to catch him. He was obviously shaking.

Neal was watching from the back. He could see Garvey, Vinson and the others looking very scared. Joren's followers looked up to him and seeing him brought so low made them anxious about their own coming Ordeals. _But he made it. The Chamber deemed him worthy._ Neal was so relieved he wanted to cry. He hurried out of the room before anyone could notice him.

Joren recovered enough to look around the Chapel. His 'friends' were there but no one looked him in the eye. His mother was crying hysterically, which just made him recover faster. He acknowledged her with a weak smile. 

He wasn't expecting _him _to be there, but in his heart, he was still hoping. But he wasn't. Of course he wasn't. Joren closed his eyes for a second and didn't notice when he started to lose consciousness. 


	11. Friends and Lovers

****

Chapter 11: Friends and Lovers

It was several days later. Kel knocked on the door hesitantly. She wasn't sure if she would be welcome, but it was several hours before Cleon would come out of the Chamber and she needed a distraction! She waited for a while, and almost changed her mind, when a rough voice asked, "Who is it?"

"I-it's me, Kel. Is it ok if I come in?" Kel was trying hard not to show her nervousness.

After another pause, Joren replied in the affirmative. Kel turned the knob and entered the room. She saw Joren lying on the bed with his eyes closed, covered in a blanket. His hands were bandaged. _Maybe it isn't such a good idea to use Joren as distraction_. Kel thought to herself. Joren's condition only made her more anxious of Cleon's Ordeal. She examined his face. Its paleness highlighted the shadows beneath the skin. _He looks so pretty—and fragile._ Kel found herself thinking. 

Joren's eyes opened and he smiled at Kel. "The earbobs go well with your eyes." 

Kel blushed, much to her mortification, her right hand instinctively coming up to finger her newly-pierced earlobe. "Uh, thanks." She tentatively sat down on the chair beside the bed. "Are you ok?" 

Joren smiled wryly and shrugged, before looking away. There reigned a very awkward silence, neither sure what they could say to each other.

Kel cleared her throat. "Um, I just came by to thank you for the gift. They're gorgeous." Joren reddened a bit, but didn't look at her. "And… I've been thinking. I _want_ to believe in you, Joren. It's hard to trust you after everything, but I'd like to think people can change." Kel also blushed. Speeches weren't her thing.

Joren closed his eyes, but not soon enough to hide the single tear that rolled down towards his left ear. When he spoke, his voice was even rougher. He spoke fast, as if he wanted to get the words out as soon as possible. "I know you probably won't believe me, but I _didn't_ hire those thugs. I… I just opened my big mouth. I didn't like you, and I didn't think you'd make a good knight, but I didn't hate you enough to do that to you or your maid." His eyes were still closed. He didn't want to see Kel's expression. 

After awhile, he heard Kel speak hesitantly. "If you didn't do it, then who did?" Joren couldn't read anything in her voice.

"I don't know. I suspect it's my father. Or one of his friends." His voice was dull. He knew he didn't have any proof to convince her. 

"But why did those men tell everyone that you did it?" 

"I don't know. Probably because our little… rivalry was known to many, so nobody would question me as the fall guy. If it's my father though, he might have found it funny to blame me. You know, so he could put me in a bind." 

"Why would he do that? He is your father…" Kel's voice traced off when she saw the bitter smile on Joren's face.

"We don't really get along." Joren sighed internally. _That_ was an understatement. 

Kel was quiet for a moment. "I'm not saying I don't believe you, Joren, but I need time to process this." 

"Don't worry about it. I wouldn't believe me either." Joren finally opened his eyes to smile at her wryly.

Kel smiled back. "But Neal told me about…"

"Neal?" Joren interrupted. "What did he say?" Then he flushed. "Nevermind."

Joren's expression puzzled Kel. What was going on? Then a tiny idea appeared in her mind. Could it be? 

"Uh, I have to go, Joren. I'll be back tomorrow, ok?" Kel needed time to figure this out.

Joren's eyes lowered. "Sure."

Kel didn't want to leave like that, so she touched his hand briefly. "I'll bring you some pastries. You're too thin!" She smiled at him, as if trying to say that she forgives him for everything. 

Joren smiled too, although he was startled by her touch. "I'd like that."

***

Neal was doing stretches when Kel marched up to him in her determined way. "We have got to talk."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "And hello to you, too. How's Cleon?"

Kel blushed. "He's fine. He liked the earrings. Now will you shut up?" She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to look mean. 

"Ok." Neal raised his arms in surrender. "What's wrong?" 

"It's Joren." She told him bluntly, watching his reactions carefully. Which was fortunate since Neal swallowed, looked around as if trapped, and blushed crimson. 

"What about him?" He sighed. 

"I went to his room." Suddenly, this didn't seem such a good idea. "H-he told me that he wasn't the one who hired those men to kidnap Lalasa." 

Neal's expression changed from disbelief to something Kel couldn't read. "And did you believe him?"

Kel countered, "Do you?" 

Neal sighed. "I don't know. I mean, why did he say he did it if it weren't true?" 

Kel frowned. "I think he couldn't care less at that time. He knew the worst he could be punished with was a fine. And he knew they could afford it." She shook her head. "Looking at him, I'm inclined to believe him, but is that wise of me? He _is_ known for his silver tongue."

"Why? What did he look like?" Neal all but whispered.

"Like hell. Like he had lost everything." Kel replied in an equally hushed tone, remembering the scar, the dark circles under Joren's eyes, and the dullness in his eyes. He couldn't have been faking that. 

Neal looked haunted. Kel was lost in her thoughts, but when she noticed him in the same condition, that same little idea popped in her mind. "Oh, and Neal?" She asked sweetly.

"Yes?" Neal turned to her automatically.

"I think he's in love with you." She left him with his mouth hanging open.


	12. The Second Save

****

Chapter 12: The Second Save

Joren took a deep breath. The public pool was empty, but he knew anyone could walk in at any time. Several weeks have passed since the Ordeal, and he was trying to slowly overcome his fears. Keladry have been very supportive of him, both by her constant visits and chats, and the memory of her climbing regularly to get over her fear of heights. 

He was going to take a bath, quite a mundane fear to have. But he was mortally afraid that people would find out about what happened with Robert and lose all respect for him. The scars were still visible at close range, especially the ones at his back. He felt that by revealing himself this way, anyone could take a guess and he would force himself not to care.

He took off his tunic and stepped into the warm water. _Ahh!_ The water soothed his tense muscles and made him feel a little sleepy. He thought about the past weeks. He had heard what happened to Vinson. It had shaken him to the core, thinking of all those women he had victimized. Vinson has always bragged about his accomplishments with women, but Joren had thought that those were just bluster. 

He had finally talked to Garvey and the gang, telling them that he and Kel had made up. They didn't believe him, of course. They thought he was still up to something. So did most of Kel's friends. Except Prince Roald, who was always polite and friendly in that reserved way of his. 

Kel told Joren that Neal believed he was sincere, but Joren didn't know if it were true. He had started eating at the hall again and Neal still avoided him. As in no words of greeting, no smiles, no insignificant small talk. He usually just looks away. 

Another surprise, however, was the sudden friendship of Baron George, Lady Alanna's husband. Nobody knew much about him. He had suddenly taken to watching Joren practice and talking to him about everything and nothing when they met. And they met pretty frequently for it to be a coincidence. Joren was a little surprised to discover that he enjoyed the baron's company. He usually learns a lot about town gossip, international incidents and the nobles' latest exploits. It figured that the baron would get the fresh scoop from Sir Myles, and it flattered Joren that he was trusted this much. Of course, it's not as if he had anyone to blab these things to. 

The baron seemed also genuinely interested in him and what he's doing. Sometimes, he even taught him how to throw knifes and juggle balls. _Maybe he used to be in the carnival_. Joren thought, musing on the mysterious baron. _It figures that Lady Alanna would pick up a husband in some…_ Joren caught himself. He should stop these kind of thoughts, especially since he actually liked Baron George. 

What he liked best about him, though, was that he could sit somewhere just thinking, and the baron wouldn't pester him at all to talk. He found himself in these funks pretty frequently. Mostly he was thinking of Neal, but he also thought about the Ordeal, and proving himself worthy of the honor of knighthood. 

King Jonathan had spoken to him and asked him to work with the Yamani relations. Joren had countered that he wasn't exactly cut out for a diplomat, but the king had silenced his objections. He could still remember the straight blue gaze that seemed to see into his soul. The king had said, "I trust you, Joren." 

After that, Joren listened in a daze while the king detailed his traveling plans. He was to stay with Kel's family, which scared the hell out of him. But since Baron Piers of Mindelan was the ambassador, and he would be more of an assistant, it would be logical for him to stay nearby. Still, Kel might have accepted him, but her family didn't necessarily share that acceptance. Joren also thought the king was trying to help him become humble and tactful by forcing him there. But he couldn't really say no. 

The good thing about this arrangement was that it was far away from everyone at court, meaning no more pretending to be fine to people who think they know you. Joren massaged his right shoulder, which was strained in training that morning and was still tense. He really needed to relax. 

The door opened, and Joren turned automatically to see who it was. Neal came in. Joren froze.

***

Neal froze just inside the door. He was clad only in his breeches, holding a towel. He had thought there was no one in the pool. He contemplated leaving, but was too embarassed to. So he stepped into the water, careful not to look at Joren. 

***

Joren had half-expected Neal to ignore him, but it still hurt. He clenched his hands and tried to control their shaking. He resolved to leave as quickly as possible, without showing how deeply he was affected. He was swimming in silence for several minutes, contemplating whether he should go or not, when he heard Neal shout. 

***

The cramp in Neal's side appeared without warning. He only had time to shout before he doubled up in pain. His hands gripping his side, his head submerged in the water in a soundless grimace. He swallowed water in panic, as he could feel the overwhelming darkness take him.

***

Joren reacted without thinking. He swam towards Neal and dragged him over to the side. Neal was unconscious by then, so he pushed the older boy on his stomach, and pushed at his back repeatedly. "Mithros, Mithros, Mithros_._" He kept murmuring, his heart loud as a jackhammer in his ribs.

Finally, after the longest minute of Joren's life, Neal began to cough, vomiting the water in his lungs. Joren was so relieved he pulled the prone body into his arms and held on tightly. "Thank Mithros." He said against Neal's shoulder. 

Then he heard a voice telling him, "What happened?" Joren turned around to see Baron George entering the pool area in a run. Everything came back to him, and he immediately pulled away from Neal, his face burning. 

"He almost drowned." Neal was strangely silent, as if in shock. The baron looked at Joren in that weird way of his.

"And you saved him?" It was part-question, part-statement. Joren merely nodded, and watched as the baron expertly wrapped Neal in towels and led him outside. "He probably needs a healer. Come on." He looked back at Joren expectantly.

Joren shook his head. "Uh, I've got some stuff to do. You take him. I'm sure he'll be fine." The baron didn't question his statement, merely giving him another look. 

After they left, Joren sat down gracelessly on the floor. His heart was still racing, from both fear and embarrassment. _I can't stay here._ He suddenly decided, and started to make plans for accepting King Jonathan's offer and leaving as soon as possible. 


	13. Break the Silence

****

Chapter 13: Break the Silence

King Jonathan didn't comment on Joren's sudden change of heart. He didn't even comment on Joren's request that the knowledge of his departure be kept from the others. He just wrote the letter to Keladry's father, and asked him to report to Sir Myles for some sort of debriefing. 

"Sir Myles? This isn't some spy mission isn't it?" Unbidden thoughts appeared, and his face paled.

The king was quick to reassure him. "No! But there are some things you have to know about the Yamani relations. Sir Myles will give you a general background of what to expect. I know you've learned about the islands in your classes, but what we teach a student and what we teach a diplomat are very different things. I also suggest you brush up on etiquette. The Yamanis take their bows very seriously." 

Joren didn't even crack a smile. He nodded dutifully, the fear still lingering in his heart. 

***

Sir Myles have given him a rundown of the important princes and princesses Joren would have to deal with. He was starting his lecture on a diplomat's responsibilities when they heard a knock on the door. 

"Yes?" Myles called out, absently thumbing a dusty book on diplomacy. 

"It's Neal," said the voice on the other side. "Lady Alanna sent a message." 

Neal! Joren went hot and cold in panic. But Sir Myles didn't notice his face. He eagerly opened the door to admit the squire. 

"Er, yes. I did send for a message. Would you like some tea? I have to reply to this." Sir Myles gestured at the chair before going to an adjoining room to write a response.

Neal nodded at once, knowing the tea included some of those warm biscuits he really loved. His eyes adjusted to the dim room, and he almost gasped aloud when he saw the other person inside. "Joren? What are you doing here?" Neal flushed, he spoke without meaning to. 

Joren shifted on the chair uncomfortably. He wasn't sure he liked Neal's attention on him after all. "Uh, Sir Myles was just telling me about something." He eyed a piece of biscuit in his hand, afraid to look up into Neal's face. _Please! Don't let him ask._

Neal wavered. Obviously Joren didn't want him to know. But suddenly everything that happened seemed to crash into him. He looked at the white-blond locks and the twisting fingers, and all he could think about was the feeling of being in Joren's arms. "O-oh, I didn't really have a chance to thank you. F-for, you know, _everything_." Neal's ears turned red, but he forced himself to look at Joren head-on. 

Joren looked up in disbelief. He had already given up on hearing those words from Neal's mouth. He saw how uneasy the older squire was, and instinctively wanted to set his mind at peace. "It's ok. You'd have done the same for anyone." They stared at each other, and the silence stretched between them. 

Joren blurted out, "I'm leaving in six days." Then he blushed and looked away again.

In shock, Neal asked, "Where are you going?" 

Joren breathed slowly, trying to control his racing heartbeat. "T-the King wants to send me to the Yamani Islands to help out the ambassador, as a diplomat of some sort."

Yamani Islands. Neal thought bemusedly of distances and ships, before things clicked. "Does Kel know?" 

Joren nodded. "Yeah. I'm staying with her family. I, uh, asked her not to tell anyone." 

But Neal didn't seem angry that he had not been told. He merely stepped closer to Joren before whispering, "Take care of yourself." Joren didn't know if he saw sadness on his face, or relief.

The door to the adjoining room opened, and Neal jumped away from Joren in startlement. Sir Myles appeared, and handed Neal a sealed envelope. "Here you go. Now take some of the biscuits, m'boy. They're fresh from the oven. And then no detours on the way back, ok?" 

Neal nodded and did as he was told. But before he left, he shared a long look with Joren. They would have to talk. Before the six days are over! 

Neither of them noticed the twinkling eyes of Myles of Olau watching their every gesture. He wasn't called the spymaster for nothing! 


	14. The Talk and Then Some

****

Chapter 14: The Talk and Then Some

Joren and Neal didn't actually get to talk until two days before he was set to leave. The word had gotten out despite his request, and he was barraged by well-meaning friends giving him advice and farewell gifts. All that, on top of packing and the last-minute diplomacy lessons.

The knock on the door interrupted him for the _n_th time today, and Joren was thinking of leaving a day early to escape the goodbyes. But when he opened the door, all thoughts of leaving disappeared from his mind. 

Neal stood outside, looking ill at ease. "Can I talk to you?" He all but whispered.

Joren nodded mutely, holding the door open for the older squire to enter. Neal did, and then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room until Joren gestured the bed. "Uh, there really isn't any sitting room." All the chairs were covered in his things. Joren was having a hard time deciding what to bring and what to leave behind. He had decided to ask Kel what things he should bring, but wasn't sure how to approach her. 

Neal sat down on one corner, while Joren remained standing. He felt like he needed some sort of advantage. Awkward silence reigned until Joren broke it with false cheer.

"Your friends must be happy to see me go." Joren smiled wryly. 

Neal cleared his throat. "I suppose most of them are. But I'm not." He looked up directly into Joren's eyes.

Joren gulped. So Neal wanted to talk about this directly. He didn't know if he felt excitement or panic, probably both. "Uh, w-well thank you." He blushed fiercely, unable to hold Neal's gaze. 

Neal clenched his shaking hands. He had to get this out! "I'm sorry if I haven't spoke to you… you know… before. I had a lot to think about."

Joren sat down on the bed beside Neal. It was better than looking at him. "I don't blame you. I don't really want to rehash what happened." His voice was soft. 

Neal touched his hand briefly and gently, as if afraid to bruise the very pale skin. "I don't either. But there are some things I want to tell you." He was also whispering.

Joren turned towards him expectantly, his hand tingling where Neal had touched it. "Joren, I-I don't hate you anymore. W-what I feel, it's not hate." Joren's heart lurched. _Mithros, is he saying what I think he's saying?_ He didn't know what to say, and so he kept silent.

Neal hesitated before continuing. "I had the impression that you don't… hate me either." Joren was shivering a little. 

"I never did." Neal had to strain his ears to hear the admission. His heart skipped a beat. He was right! After a pause, he touched Joren's hand again. This time, he held on to it.

"I don't know if you've ever… uhm, been with a… you know." Neal was at a loss for words. "But I don't want to rush you. I think I'm starting to…" He cleared his throat. "Uhm, but I need some time too. And you're leaving so we've got time, right?" He looked at Joren's face.

Joren was biting his lip, fighting the urge to knock his hand away from Neal's. The older boy was right. Although he loves Neal, he definitely wasn't ready for anything like a relationship. "Yeah. I think we should go slow." He said softly, looking up. 

Their eyes caught. Neal murmured. "I'll write, I promise." Joren smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing Neal had seen. He hadn't realized how seldom Joren really smiled, without it being malicious. He looked at the younger boy's lips and was entranced.

Joren caught his breath. Neal was staring at his lips. And leaning forward… He closed his eyes and opened his lips instinctively. Neal kissed Joren almost chastely. But he put all of his feelings into the act. A kiss has never felt like this before, even with all those experienced women at the brothel in the city! And then Joren had kissed him back. It was bliss, a few seconds of utter bliss before someone knocked at his door.

"Joren?" Kel's voice. The two jumped apart guiltily. Neal was distracted by the redness of Joren's lips before standing away from the bed in panic. After getting his heart under control, Joren slowly opened the door to admit the female squire. 

"There you are! Are you _still_ packing? You don't need much clothes, Joren. My parents will probably provide..." Kel stopped when she saw Neal. After a pause, she grinned at the two red faces. "Oh, you two _finally_ made up. It's about time." She entered the room, shoving a box into Joren's hands. "I just wanted to give you my gift. See you guys!"

She turned to leave, but Neal caught her arm. "Uh, I have to go as well. I'll… I'll see you later, Joren." He smiled at the boy, his love apparent in his eyes. 

Joren just stood there, holding a blue box in his hands. "Actually, I need to talk to you Kel." He blurted out. Kel was only too happy to stay and help with the packing. 

Before he left, Neal looked at the two heads sifting through the clothes and things. His best friend and his… boyfriend? Although Neal was almost sure of his feelings, he was still wary of the idea of him being… _that _way. He needed time to get used to the idea. He needed time to be able to tell everyone. Although Kel seemed to already know. 

Will the others hate him for feeling this way? Doubly because Joren was a guy and the guy was Joren? The enforced distance bought him some much-needed time to gauge the reactions of the others, and to convince them—and himself—that this was not wrong. Still, despite the problems, Neal walked away from the room in a lighter mood, as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. On the plus plus plus side, Joren was a great kisser!


	15. Goodbye to You

****

Chapter 15: Goodbye to You

Joren was sitting on the bed in the ship, clutching a piece of parchment in his hands. It was the letter Neal had given him, before sneaking in a quick kiss and leaving abruptly. Joren was almost afraid to open it. The ship lurched and his stomach went along with it. Joren fought down the nausea and finally opened the letter, trying to read it in the dim light of the lamp. It might take his mind off the fierce storm that raged around him. 

Dear Joren,

I would love to hear about your new job and home, so don't forget to write. The palace will be more quiet without you. Before all this, I would have been glad to see you go, but I think I'll miss you an awful lot. Take care of yourself over there. Don't worry about Kel's parents. I think she already wrote to them, and I'm sure they will be friendly. Lady Alanna told me that you felt unqualified to be a diplomat, but I think if you believe in yourself, and don't fall back into your bad habits, then you will surely do well. Kel also promises to write. Thank you.

Mithros Bless,

Nealan

There were no mushy I-love-yous, nothing that referred to the kisses. But Joren felt a warm glow inside him. _Maybe he's trying to be my friend first_. Right now, with all that has happened, he thinks he needs a friend more than anything. The emptiness inside him was slowly being replaced, by Kel and Neal, and by the idea of something to work for. 

Joren carefully placed the letter back into the envelope, and tuck it inside his bedroll. Then he took out Kel's gift. With the chaos that preceded his departure, he had almost forgotten to open it. He ripped the blue wrapper in feral glee, excited to know what his former enemy and current friend had given him, only to smile tearfully at what he found inside.

It contained a short white kimono edged in pale blue, with a design of geometric waves in the same color, and a matching obi. Pinned to it was a note. 

Lalasa made it for you. I explained everything, and she told me she believes you.

Take care! And don't let my parents bully you!

Keladry of Mindelan

Joren took the kimono, and discovered something else in the box beneath it. There was a small book, with a cover made of the same blue silk. The pages were blank. Joren shrugged inwardly. It had been awhile since he had kept a diary. At a young age, he had already realized how dangerous it was to leave any evidence of one's actions on print. But why not? Especially now that he was turning away from everything that made up the Joren he pretended to be. Maybe a little introspection would do him some good.

The rolling of the ship became more gentle as the storm settled into rain, and Joren was soon lulled to sleep, clutching the journal to his chest. Outside, the sun slowly rose. It was going to be a beautiful day. He hoped.


	16. Exercising Joren's Quill

****

Chapter 16: Exercising Joren's Quill

Dear Keladry,

You should have warned me about your mother.

Not that she isn't the most gracious of hosts, and very brave, and quite beautiful. But if I had come here acting as I used to do, I'd be begging for your forgiveness right now. 

She doesn't really bully me. She just reminds me somehow the many ways she can make my life hell. In fact, now that I think about it, your mother kinda reminds me of a certain lady knight, except she's more polite.

As for the work, that's just what it is: work. I'm sure you'll be laughing at me while reading this. For of course, you are fighting people and doing something glorious and heroic, while I'm learning how to bow and scrape, and be nice to people I hate. How did you ever manage it, Kel?

My days are long moments of bordeom interspaced with a few minutes of terror, mostly while I am talking to the emperor, or one of his many sons.

Your father is quite a pleasant chap. We had a long talk when I first came. (And he gave me quite a tongue-lashing.) But afterwards, I felt that he approved of me somehow. It felt nice.

I am not making much friends. Either my dubious reputation has preceded me, or these people are just naturally suspicious of bumbling ignorant strangers like me. 

The mountains are beautiful, although I know you might not appreciate being on top of them. The view makes me want to take up painting, but I know I will just suck at it.

In any case, thank you for your gifts. I am making good use of them. Give my regards to everyone. 

Joren

Joren never really thought in all his time as a page, then a squire, that he would end up with a desk job. Diplomacy sounds like it involves a lot of balls, and exotic foodstuff, and meeting beautiful people. But in reality, Joren spent most of his time in a study, reading reports and letters from people, writing letters and running errands for Baron Piers of Mindelan, and studying aspects of the Yamani Islands that could help him appear less a fool during the aforementioned balls. His grasp of the language was quite pitiful, although the baron had another servant tutoring him daily. Apparently, although his presence only served to strengthen the ties between the two, the baron wanted him to learn all he can, for some future use. He surely wasn't grooming a replacement, wasn't he? Every night, Joren entertained thoughts that the king was temporarily insane when this job was assigned to him, and was sending a letter to rectify this mistake as soon as possible. 

To make things worse, there were moments that he _had_ to leave the study, and act the knight. He had to join informal contests against Nobles of the Empire, or whatever they're called. And they sure know how to fight. Joren was very, very glad he had never actually challenged Kel to a one-on-one duel. 

On the positive side, Kel's father had informed him while he was dazedly staring at the sky after a fight that if he had by some chance won the fight, it would have been _very bad_ for Tortall. Quite comforting a thought. 

Joren found himself going back again and again to his quill, with an itch to write something down, whether in a letter or in a certain notebook.

I think several of the nobles are making fun of me. It feels quite weird to be on the opposite side of where I was back home. Not that I ever plan on becoming that person again, but this is a sad state of affairs. Speaking of affairs, I never knew how complicated it is to run a kingdom, much more an empire. I thought I was just gonna be in the sidelines, helping the baron out with paperwork.. But I think he wants to show me off or something. And this bloody diplomacy is like dancing, but I still haven't learnt the steps, and I keep stepping on people's feet.

On the bright side, I met some people the other day who seemed to genuinely like me, and not just pretended to…

Syuusuke noh Fuji wasn't really a prince of any consequence. He rose through the complicated ranks of the Empire using his wit, his ability to read people, and the very convenient fortune he inherited from his father. He was introduced to Joren by Baron Piers while they were checking the prices and availability of goods in the shops. Syuusuke was a merchant by trade, and he owned many of the big shops they visited.

Joren found himself looking into sharp eyes the color of midnight. "Pleased to meet you." He murmured with a wince, aware that his Yamani was atrocious.

Syuusuke smiled gently at his effort, before bowing politely. "The pleasure is mine." He replied in accented Common. Then he invited them into his shop for some tea. 

Although Joren felt as if the dark-haired man had taken his measure, the frequent smiles that Syuusuke bestowed on him felt genuine, as did the offer of future visits to his home. Joren stumbled over his words, returning the offer, and he was rewarded with another gentle smile.

"I would love to. I know Ilane of Mindelan quite well." Syuusuke nodded at Baron Piers. "And it would be an honor to dine at her home once more. But I feel I must insist that you and your hosts be my guests for a night." 

The baron and the merchant arranged a date for dinner the following night. Joren felt as if his load was lightened, especially when the baron commented on the way home. "I think he likes you. That would be beneficial to Tortall, and to you of course. Syuusuke is a generous man to his friends."

Dear Nealan, 

Your confidence in me might be misplaced. I am learning, and my "boss", Baron Piers, has expressed approval, although not in so many words. But I still feel like a bloody fool most of the time. I think the people here are tolerating my presence because they find my ignorance amusing.

Job problems aside, I really miss you. And Kel. It is not just the fact that I am surrounded by strangers. The Yamani Islands feel like a completely different world, and our studies are definitely inadequate in preparing anyone for the place. 

Kel's mother, Baroness Ilane, was scary at first, but she mellowed down after awhile. Still, she watches me like a hawk. The baron is a much more laid-back person. I think you would like him very much. 

Also, I think I understand Kel better. After being here awhile, she seems a lot less stoic and "lump"-like in comparison to all those faces that looks like stone walls. 

I met someone who may be another exception. His name is Syuusuke noh Fuji, and he is a merchant. He is unfailingly polite, like everyone I meet, but he is genuinely friendly. I am quite short of friends here.

We will have dinner at his place soon. I will write about it next time. Please write back soon. Take care of yourself.

Joren


	17. The Belles of the Ball

****

Chapter 17: The Belles of the Ball

Syuusuke's home was quietly lavish. The walls and floors were of dark wood with panels of hand-painted silk, and the floors were covered in wine-colored carpets. Joren clenched his hands tightly beneath the wide sleeves of his kimono. He was not unused to luxury, belonging as he does to one of the richest families in Tortall. But he never really had any happy memories back in his home. And the reminder of it made him more nervous.

A servant in a simple white kimono with a red obi welcomed them from the door, and led them to a room with a low table in matching dark wood, and black cushions on the floor. Joren followed Piers and Ilane's lead, as they sat down on a cushion and waited for their host to arrive. When Syuusuke finally did, they stood up again and bowed to their host, and presenting gifts as thank-you for the dinner invitation.

Syuusuke bowed down as well. Behind him, a smaller man with shoulder-length black hair and kind eyes imitated the action. 

"This is Ryoma noh Echizen." Syuusuke said, gesturing to the smaller man. "He is my… partner."

Joren gazed at him curiously. He didn't look old enough to run a trading business. But he didn't have a chance to pursue this thought, as the food arrived at that moment. The servants all wore the white and red kimono, and they carried laquered boxes and covered dishes. The boxes contained several pieces of rice wrapped in seaweed containing small portions of fish and vegetables. Joren had already gotten used to the delicacies, except for the more exotic ones. The dishes were more traditional, containing buttered potatoes and carrots mixed with a very sweet kind of leaf, as well as a smaller type of fowl stuffed with nuts and greens.

The conversation was, as expected, full of polite flattery of the food and small talk about nothing important. But sometimes, Joren would say something unexpected, and he would glimpse a real smile on Syuusuke and Ryoma's lips before they would once more smooth into expressionless masks.

Then Ryoma started a conversation with Ilane about painting techniques and home decoration, information which went over Joren's head.

"Ryoma here is one of the most well-known painters in the whole island." Syuusuke told them, pride coloring his statement. Ryoma blushed slightly, before laughing softly. 

"I would love to show you my work after dinner."

Joren couldn't stop his question from coming out. "But I thought you were a merchant like Syuusuke?" He looked at their smiling faces, and it dawned on him. "Oh." He blushed fiercely, which made even Ilane and Piers laugh at him. Ryoma was _that_ kind of partner.

***

A man in a brown tunic knocked on the door. It opened, and Nealan of Queenscove peered out. "Yes? Can I help you?"

The man bowed down to the squire. "There is a letter for young master Neal." He held out a long yellow envelope, which Neal snatched eagerly.

"Thank you." He mumbled, and closed the door without a word. The man smiled. He had to report to Baron George soon, and tell him that young master Joren had finally written.

On his bed, Neal was contemplating the letter. It was almost a month since Joren left. He had missed him terribly, and Kel mercilessly teased him about it. Not a day passed by that he wondered what the younger knight was doing. It got so bad, that Lady Alanna had to assign him extra chores just to get his mind back on work.

Finally, he couldn't wait much longer, so Neal carefully opened the envelope and took out the yellow paper inside. He smiled, then frowned.

Kel knocked on Nealan's door, her letter from Joren in her hand. "Hey Neal, did Joren write to you, too." She entered, noticing her best friend lying on the bed frowning up at the ceiling. "What's wrong, Meathead?" 

Neal just gazed at Kel's face, unseeing, Joren's words echoing in his head. _I met someone… His name is Syuusuke noh Fuji_.


	18. Good Advice

****

Chapter 18: Good Advice 

Joren heard about the fire festival from a young Yamani boy who served in the stables. The young blabbermouth was talking in mixed Yamani and Common he picked up from his masters, and Joren understood only his every other word. Still, he got the gist of the chatter, which was that the fire festival was next month, and the preparations were starting. Afire with curiosity, Joren went to talk to Baron Piers about it. 

Apparently, the Yamani Isles celebrated a fire festival every year, and it was a big deal, because they believed that the fire god Yama created the entire group of islands, and bestowed upon the emperor his divine ability to rule. 

Joren will have to take part in the festival, but mostly as a spectator. The locals usually take this chance to show off to everyone, and the decorations and parades were lavish and extravagant.

Ryoma had extended an invitation to Joren to be their guest for the festival. After his initial embarrasment, Joren found the smaller man a delight to be with. He was silent most of the time, and yet manages to show more emotion than Syuusuke does. Like most of the Yamanis, his every word was deliberate and well-chosen. He often spends an afternoon with Ryoma, reading papers while the other painted in a well-lit room. 

On one such afternoon, Ryoma was painting as usual, his easel facing opposite the low desk where Joren was working. He was reading request letters from several small businesses to export their goods into Tortall. Most of their items are exotic, and would really be welcomed by the richer nobles back home. But there was supposed to be a delicate balance between the two, and so the requests had to be weeded out. 

Joren was just about to finish separating the possibles, from the highly unlikely when Ryoma spoke.

"You seemed surprise to find out that Syuusuke and I were together. Is it true that such relationships are condemned in your home?" His Common was musical and precise.

Joren shifted on the cushion, thinking how to answer. "It is not very common where I come from. I don't know if it is because of the strong feelings against it. But the current king is an open-minded one, and I haven't heard of too many cases where couples of the same gender are harmed. If there are any, they are probably done by strict fathers on their erring sons." The last words were said in a bitter tone. Too bitter. Realizing this, Joren gulped, his face heating. He didn't mean to say all that!

Ryoma smiled at him gently. "Thank you for being honest." He walked to Joren's side, and sat gracefully on the floor. He extended a hand to Joren's face, but stopped when the younger man flinched. "You have been hurt for who you are?" The last was in a soft querying tone, somehow conveying his indignation.

Joren looked away. Although he had accepted his feelings for Neal, and he was becoming good friends with Syuusuke and his partner, a part of him still felt it was wrong somehow. The part that was the result of ten years living with his father, who hated how "girly" he looked. The part that was aggravated by his experience at the hand of Robert. He was afraid that he would never get over this.

Slender fingers touched his chin, turning his face towards Ryoma. "No one will hurt you here, chibi. In these islands, love is love, in any form it might appear. And it is too precious to waste." 

Joren looked up at the dark eyes tilted at the corners, absorbing the sincerity he found in them. "Thank you." He bowed as deeply as he could. 

He felt the fingers caress his hair before Ryoma spoke once more. "Love is of a higher value than gold. When you find it, don't let go, chibi. Fight for it. Even if you are fighting against yourself." 

Joren nodded without looking up, blinking back his tears. Ryoma kissed him on his head, and stood up to go back to his painting. The rest of the day was spent in silence. 


	19. Visitor

****

Chapter 19: Visitor

Joren finally had a whole day to himself. Baron Piers had let him have some free time for "good behavior", after he somehow charmed a snobby princelet and major player in the Empire into giving in to Tortall's requests for aid in their war against Scanra. Sometimes, he still doesn't know what he was doing, but he found that merely trying to like these people went a long way in persuading even the most unwilling to his cause for the day. It was helping that his Yamani was improving, and that Syuusuke and Ryoma had taken him under his wing.

It was ironic that he had a whole say to himself, and he was inside the house with nothing to do. Nothing, that is, until Ryoma stopped by, and had the brilliant idea of teaching him how to make sushi, the little packs of rice that the Yamanis ate. So for several hours, Joren got his hands dirty in a way he never expected them to. Ryoma was just giving him a passing grade, when a servant appeared holding out several letters and packages. 

Joren was just about to complain that he didn't need more work when he noticed they were stamped by the Tortallan royal seal. Mail from home! His heart jumped. And he eagerly reached for the packages.

Ryoma watched, amused, while Joren tore the wrapping paper apart. The box was from Baron George, containing several throwing stars of the highest quality. Each one had a J engraved on top. 

After examining each shuriken, Joren opened the envelope attached to it. In simple letters, the baron had written:

Don't be careless. And practice with both arms.

He didn't sign it, but his crest was on the seal. Joren spared a thought wondering why the baron sent him something, but another envelope made him forget everything. It was from Neal.

Joren,

Kel has extended an invitation, and we both will be there by the Yama festival. I have missed you terribly, and I am excited to see you. Thankfully, Lady Alanna has given her permission. Wait for me. Kel sends her regards.

Love,

Neal

__

Neal is coming? Here? Joren dropped the letter, watching absently as it falls to the floor. Beside him, an arched eyebrow was the only sign of surprise on Ryoma's otherwise serene face. 

***

Lady Alanna was looking across the table at her husband. "You're suddenly very interested in Joren of Stone Mountain." It was a statement, not a question. George stopped chewing for a moment, before replying.

"Aren't you? After all that has happened, don't you feel compelled to watch the boy?"

Alanna shrugged. "Because I feel partly responsible, yes. And because my squire is involved, as well as Keladry. But is there any other reason why the boy interests you?" 

After a thoughtful silence, George answered. "He is something of a puzzle. For years he wore a mask of hatred and cruelty. I can't help wondering why he wears that mask, and what we will see if we peel away the layers."

Alanna nodded at this. "If you're looking to find why, his father will probably be the culprit. As for who he is underneath, I suppose both Neal and Keladry will soon find out. Although I expect the people in Yamani will have seen glimpses by now."

George grinned at his wife. "Have you ever seen the Yama Festival?"

Alanna only smiled in reply.


	20. Walking Through the Fire

****

Chapter 20: Walking Through the Fire

Neal tugged at his collar. Kel had made him wear a kimono on the trip, so he would blend in once they arrived. He glared at Kel, who looked as impassive as always, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that made Neal somewhat uncomfortable. 

When he first met her, Neal thought Kel didn't have a sense of humor, but he later discovered he was wrong. Kel's sense of humor just appeared in the weirdest of circumstances. 

Actually, the kimono fit him perfectly. What else could he expect from Lalasa's expert needle? But Neal felt the need to fidget. Thinking about Joren was very different from actually meeting him face to face, a very few minutes from now, when the carriage they were in finally reached its destination.

Why was he here again? He felt the rustle of an envelope that he had tucked in his sleeve. Aaah. That's right. He was here to keep an eye out for the competition. Because Joren was his, and these Yamani guys could do well to get that through their heads.

Neal blinked. He hadn't realized how possessive he had become. And it suddenly dawned on him that Joren might not appreciate his reasons. And that Joren might not even want him here in the first place. He grasped Kel's hand in panic. 

"Kel, what if… what if he's not pleased to see me?"

Kel looked at him as if he were the dumbest person to ever walk the earth. "Are you kidding me? He'll be so shocked, he might hug you in public!"

Neal blushed a little. "Shock isn't the same as pleased." He mumbled in his defense.

Kel rolled her eyes and spoke to him as if to a small child. "Nealan, Joren likes you. Of course he'll be happy to see you here."

Oh. Right.

The ride continued without any more conversation, as each of them were lost in their own thoughts. 

When Joren finally saw them, his blue eyes widened like saucers, and so did his mouth. Kel shook her head. _With eyes like those, Joren could probably get away with murder_. She was right, too. Joren sprang forward to hug Neal, before stumbling back red-faced. 

"W-what are you guys doing here?"

Lady Ilane chuckled from behind Joren. "I invited my daughter to come for the festival, and she brought a friend with her. You must be Nealan. Invite them in, Joren and we can introduce them to our guests."

Joren obeyed instinctively, his eyes never leaving Neal's face. But the words sunk in and he flushed once more, before bowing formally and introducing the two men inside the house. 

"Syuusuke noh Fuji, Ryoma noh Echizen, this is Keladry of Mindelan and Nealan of Queenscove."

The two men bowed, and Neal imitated Kel's action. So this was Syuusuke. He was tempted to open his big mouth, but wasn't sure if he would offend. Maybe he could warn the man off his Joren in private.

***

Alanna looked around in interest at the little house they had rented for the festival. The rent was outrageously expensive, because many visitors were coming. She unpacked her bags in the tiny bedroom, musing about her children and having a sort of second honeymoon with George in the Islands. 

She wondered where her husband was, and dismissed the thought immediately. Knowing George, he was probably out meeting with some spy he had stationed nearby. 

She wondered where she could commission some of those formal kimonos that she saw on the women while they were riding past. Alanna smiled. _It's been too long since I've had a vacation_.

***

The festival was starting when the two parties met. Alanna and George had spent a few blissful days on a honeymoon of sorts. They walked the streets hand in hand, and acted like tourists, instead of spies or warriors. 

And then Alanna decided it was time, so she had her husband arrange an "accidental" meeting with Kel's parents in the marketplace. And they managed to get themselves invited to their home.

Neal dropped a glass, and Joren paled. Keladry choked on the rice balls she was eating. Alanna just grinned at them. 

So they were all together when the fireworks started, in brilliant colors and designs. Syuusuke whispered to Joren and Kel that the fireworks were very special, being products of both science and magic. All of them noticed that Neal and Joren held hands throughout the floats and the parade. And they pretended not to listen to the whispered words that were exchanged. 

George frowned. The fireworks were interfering, but he was almost sure he heard the words "You're jealous?" and "I'm with you, aren't I?" fall from Joren's lips. And it was interesting how the discussion ended with Neal going completely red while looking at the Yamani couple that sat serenely beside them. And his mouth forming the word, "Oh."

***

They had a special dinner on the balcony, with all seated around a low table. Joren flushed every time Neal accidentally brushed against his hand, which was often. 

The others didn't try to engage them in conversation, although George was sorely tempted to. But he just said to himself that there was time for that later, after the boys have settled things between themselves. He chuckled silently. He never had this fun matchmaking since his cousin Rispah met Coram. 

He was distracted from his thoughts by Baron Piers tapping a glass with a carved wooden stick that the Yamanis somehow ate with. 

"Ehrm. I'd like to formally announce on this occasion that I have chosen someone to be my successor, and the King has agreed with my decision. In several years' time, Joren of Stone Mountain will be the Tortallan ambassador to Yamani. Congratulations, son. And keep up the good work!"

Joren looked quite shaken by the news. _But surely he would have guessed?_ George thought to himself. 

The young man could only smile at all of them and thank them in a suspiciously husky voice, blinking with suspiciously bright blue eyes. 

***

__

Finally! They were alone. Neal grinned up at the moon which seemed so low one could almost touch it. There were still fireworks going off occasionally, but things have calmed down enough for him to be able to hear himself think.

They were walking in the garden, holding hands but not daring to look at each other. Neal decided to break the awkward silence.

"You're not mad? That I got jealous of a name you barely mentioned in a letter?"

Joren smiled at him softly. "No. I am… touched."

Neal was silent for a while, before blurting out. "I've told them."

Joren looked puzzled so he continued. "I've told all my friends that… you… us… you know…" He looked at the sky again. "I didn't want to be ashamed of you. I want everyone to know, even if they'll give us a hard time."

"Did they?" Joren's voice was soft and hard at the same time. It startled Neal so that he looked at the younger man.

"No. No, they didn't. They didn't believe me at first. Kel had to tell them that I wasn't lying. And they teased me. But the usual kind, you know… like with a girl." 

Joren took hold of Neal's hand. "I'm glad that you're ready enough to come clean to your friends. But I need to come clean to you as well." And in a breaking voice, Joren told him all that he had undergone as a child and because of Robert. 

Neal looked horrified. But he couldn't find his voice. "I didn't tell you before, because I didn't want any pity. Will," Joren swallowed nervously, "will this change things?"

Neal's voice was rough when he was finally able to sleep. "No. It just means we'll wait, that's all." 

Joren turned around and faced Neal. "What if I don't want to?" And then he kissed Neal. It was a fiery kiss, the kind that lit up your insides until you felt as if you were tingling, or glowing. 

They didn't talk about future plans, each knowing instinctively that they will do all they can to be together. But there were fireworks. Brilliant reds and oranges. Up there in the dark sky, and down in gardens, sparking between the two, as Yama the god of fire, ignites in his people's hearts a love too precious not to fight for.

Neither noticed several spies turning away in polite embarrassment. For the two young men, the earth shaked, and they only stayed upright because they were holding on to each other.

Finit


End file.
